Heyyyyy Brotherrrrr

You can remember so vividly that tree you used to climb. You knew exactly what first branch to grab and how to begin your ascent. You can close your eyes and remember step-by-step where to put your next food and hand.

You can even remember how the bark of the tree felt in your grip. For some reason you can still put yourself on that climb, and have the confidence that you would remember what branches would be where, what ducks, twists and reaches you'd need to make to go higher. 

You knew how far up the tree you were just by looking at the branches you were grasping. There was no need to look down or into the distance to see how high you had climbed, you knew that this was a journey to the top. You remember how the branches became smaller and thinner, yet you had 100% certainty that they would hold you, just as they always did before. You didn't question yourself or the tree because you had done this so many times. 

Finally, you reached the height of your ascent, and you and the tree became one; a balance between your own weight and the strength of the far reaches of the tree. You remember feeling that equilibrium, knowing that you couldn't go higher.

Only then do you look around to see the view, only then do you look down to see your journey and how far you've come.


I was 8 years old the first time I was proud of my brother.

I remember looking up, a block away into my tree and seeing a little red figure. It was my brother, at the highest part of the tree in his red coat. I ran towards the tree...I knew he was as high as you could go because of the branches. 

There I was looking up at my 4 year old brother on a windy, winter day, clinging to the top of the tree like a koala bear. But I don't know how he got there, did he use the same branches? 

In his memory he may have taken different steps; put his feet in different nooks, grabbed limbs I never noticed. He saw that tree differently. He saw his path differently. But he got to the top on his own. 

His was a different journey, and I am still proud.

écouter de la musique

Brueghel's Peasant Dance

The way in which we remember and enjoy music has changed over the last couple of centuries...even more so over the last 20-30 years.  Our music comes with us everywhere on our iPods, phones, laptops, home sound systems, etc.  We create our own life's playlist.  We associate times, places, people, events, weather, smells, and even emotions with a particular tune because we have so much easy-access to music.

Forever in our minds, particular songs can remind us of a time, ranging from the haunting to pure bliss.  Some of these tunes may be ruined forever, scarring us with the memory of a place where we don't wish our minds to go.  Some perhaps make us smile and think of a person or a location in which we yearn to relive over and over again.  And then there are even songs that simply remind us of basic things like a commute, a routine, or maybe a job.

Humans before us didn't have this experience.  I don't think music has lost any of its sacredness, but songs were relegated for very specific, and for most people rare moments.  Access to a wide range of music was also not in the norm.  Thus, a person's perception of music and how they associated it with tangents was likely totally different.  I don't feel regretful for them.  It's humbling; they probably appreciated the small range of tunes they had, and enjoyed them just as much as I do with my favorite songs.  But I realize now how much the dynamics has changed, and this highlights the fact that we are wading into new water in how we perceive music.